I watched the porch lights flicker on for them—
the laughter soft, the timing always right.
The chairs were full. I hovered at the stem
of every plan, then vanished with the night.
A window cracked, a voice that called too late,
a message read, replied to days behind.
No slammed door, just a pattern I could trace—
how even warmth turns cruel when misaligned.
I asked for little. Always just enough
to be let in. To pull a corner seat.
But glow is not the same as being loved.
And unaddressed omissions aren't discreet.
I stayed outside until I felt the chill—
no hate, no love, just quiet, quiet, kill.
Regret!
What do I learn?
When the world shifts
And someone's gone,
Leaving a void
Their absence lingers,
A ghost in the air,
Unnoticed, unheard,
Until it dawns...
The wave crashes down,
Remorse takes hold,
and Sadness seeps in
Like a cold wind blows.
Barren land,
Dug up, untended,
Seeds of regret,
Sprout and then wilt.
Thoughts, a storm,
Washing me over,
Promises unspoken,
Neglect unaddressed.
Death, they say,
Makes us wake up,
But the dreams fade,
And I'm lost again.
But can't I learn?
Can't I break free?
Live differently,
Embrace the change
Life, I implore you,
Let the lesson last,
Not just fleeting promises,
But genuine change.
The cycle repeats,
But hope remains.
To live better,
And remember…
Drama am I dreaming? or is this
Deja Vu. To be or not to participate
in one's drama. Players of this game
called life played by people residing in this society.
A simple hello oftentimes ends in someone
being triggered and engaging in
unhealed traumas, launching arrows
at everyone or passing blame on others
Emotional instability, friendship flaws,
leaving issues unaddressed release the
above mentioned these dramatic experiences
will set you free of drama, Be clear and
straightforward with other people, release
yourself and not feeding into other people's
self-inflicted dramas towards you.
A Political Opinion
Miracle Man
7/27/2023
Our voices are not yet audible enough,
to tickle the ears of the ones in power.
Those who care choose not to rebuff,
and upon confrontation, they cower.
It seems much that’s worthy is unaddressed,
it’s moved to the back burner for later.
With lining their pockets most are obsessed,
fancying themselves as a great debater.
But our votes had part in their selection,
and we have power to correct any mistakes.
By going to the polls during next election,
we can rid our midst of political snowflakes.
A fact, Most Politicians Are Snowflakes,
in a position, not having what it takes.
Sunday’s an auspicious day to suggest
that you, as a student, take a recess
In order to try and decompress
from our studying and stress
Now, of course, if you’re so possessed,
or some might even say obsessed,
you could study for a test,
we all want to do our best
but some work habits can oppress
and leave one all depressed
Just take a needed rest
and if your needs are unaddressed
get caressed when you’re undressed
some would have that thought suppressed
or simply left it unexpressed
but under oath I would attest
and to a priest I have confessed
all my roommates acquiesced
that for relaxation it’s the best
and quickest way to get unstressed
there a hundred things I could suggest
you type “A”s tend to make everything a contest
in this, there are no professors for you to impress
this isn’t a competitive, academic trap, trick or jest
I just know that, on Monday, this girl will be refreshed
If That's what you think is best without voice,
without thought, something's wrong unexpressed.
Spoken out loud,
leading some one else to decide what is best.
Questioned by you are like me justice is.
Would you then?
Independent of thought afraid of what comes,
unspoken word's would explain.
Is something wrong about pain other's like?
Left to guess where inside it comes from.
Those are gross form's,
behavior caused by another when known.
When justice when claimed is ignored by those and
does not come we're ignored.
Ignored mental pain, cause and effect, unable
to speak, unaddressed.
How could such pain when seen by those with
the pen,
causing me such pain, blind affect.
My poetry reflects so much that moves me in the world... It's a combination of my experience and feelings and emotions; and my perception and interpretation of the feelings and emotions other people feel. We all have a kaleidoscope of these within.
Unwritten
By Michelle Morris
09/04/2020
It is unwritten,
The pain I endured.
The loneliness
Self imposed,
No human trusted
Anymore.
Bonds broken,
Soul shattered;
Life together
Completely in tatters.
Distance in time,
Continents and miles;
Never touching
Or talking;
Communication
Zeroed completely.
A blank life -
Halted.
A full stop.
It is unwritten
That my soul is
Locked away
With feelings -
Unspoken
Unaddressed
Undying
But never allowed
Freedom.
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Mother thought me gone.
She wrote cryptic notes
left them in the mailbox unaddressed.
Occasionally she thought me dead
or travelling in a dangerous land
being held hostage by hostile tribesmen.
Eventually she gave up
yet I was always near
laying on my bed next to her room.
She never did discover my vicinity,
my close proximity.
When she died
- I travelled.
I have endlessly miss us in past best;
Time has eaten up my distant worry,
Do not grow weary of my silly quest.
You miss it too like how dream's forte arrest,
Eyes blur pictures to fulfilling scurry,
I have endlessly miss us in past best.
We had pretended enough unaddressed:
The worth of experiencing such slurry...
Do not grow weary of my silly quest.
How miles to cover left surrey unrest-
Together lost to splendor in surrey,
I have endlessly miss us in past best.
Be smart and good to doubt our plight's request,
With bounded rational score so burry,
Do not grow weary of my silly quest.
We are but insane to the core contest
That chances flavoured, with watery curry...
I have endlessly miss us in past best,
Do not grow weary of my silly quest.
and I close my eyes
to consider how perfect
this little universe
that we’ve created
this tiny bubble
that holds just you and i
its perfect balance
of comfort and mystery
knowns and unknowns
words said and unsaid
longings unaddressed
that hang in the lurch
that tint every conversation
that grow in their silence
pulsating unexpressed
think how tragic it might be
to lose some day
this perfect little universe
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Posted on June 6, 2022
`
Even in darkness,
when a moonless sky
preaches fear from a pulpit of shadows
pointing elongated fingers…
when walls crumble
into a rubble strewn alleyway
and graffiti issues spray paint threats
on frantic facades dripping sabotage…
and kindness remains
hidden away in sealed envelopes,
unaddressed and undelivered,
discarded in bundles of false accusations
Her beauty shines unending
in effervescent streams,
illuminating in a photograph, poetry
and a kind word from quivering lips
caressing my heart
in watercolor enchantments
and pastel pleasures…
showing me it is not what, but who
for this darkness is hers,
weighted thoughts on soft shoulders
binding wrists in tethered worries
and still she smiles . . . for me
Those L O N G Register Receipts
I move up as next on the line.
She checks out my rations just fine.
Some milk, eggs, and bread
are pushed up ahead
when packer, to bag, does assign.
But then, my receipt, oh my lord,
keeps coming and coming, I'm floored!
For sure, half-yard long...
I'm thinking what's wrong?
Three items grants me this reward?
A chance to win thousands someday
if I take an hour-long survey.
Some coupons to use
that somehow, I'll lose;
a waste of good paper, I say!
A web address I can go to,
to comment if checker came thru,
with service that's good...
did all that she should;
for that, print more coupons in view.
So glad to get this off my chest,
for here in my household at rest,
long twirls of receipts...
for me are no treats.
Such stupid waste still unaddressed!
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place~
For "What Gobsmacks, Bamboozles and Confuses Me"
Contest sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Judged: 11/11/2018
statistics say they're checking out at twenty two per day
closure seekers on their final quest
hollow men who don't have time to slowly fade away
side by side they've occupied the chairs of the V. A.
trying pills in hopes of filling hollows in their chest
statistics say they're checking out at twenty two per day
families they left behind in mental disarray
the vacant stares, the secrets close to vest
hollow men who don't have time to slowly fade away
finding solice in a bottle is another bill they pay
their prayers have gone unanswered, their questions unaddressed
hollow men who don't have time to slowly fade away
they find too few distractions to make it through the day
at night they find in sleep there is no rest
hollow men who don't have time to slowly fade away
statistics say they're checking out at twenty two per day
We have grown to love has shifted face
brothers and sisters lost in all that is valued
under human reality chains shape shifting
Firstly murder has become a tipping point on our scales
meaningless news edited by wheasels to alter opinions set
incorrectly twisted falsehoods aired liars speak
Where truth and family based structures are attacked
good is considered a bad state of belief to be in
as it does not stand in favour within stones thrown sin
Human error has crept up upon us bringing destruction
every where it goes it terrorises living souls
unaddressed mass murders they are living lavish lifestyles
Do we learn anything from past mistakes made
Looking through the portal of mirrors
our flesh will perish immortal spirit rises
A field of entanglement forces against justice work around
the clock clouded visions ticking every minute closer
one time bomb ready to explode
Now the gates are opening to Hades
ignorance now is used as some sort of intelligence tool
Where boundaries have been removed for ugly reasons
My folks said I have a gold butterfly,
That lives within till the day I die
To keep me safe from all adventures made;
And guide my walkways as these fingers prayed.
But while I grew in the movement of time
My paths escaped me like splatters of grime,
For this heart that endured a trail of cares
Became torn with seasons’ weight of repairs.
Across the glass pane, hues bathed on the mound
Cocooned in her nest , a gold monarch crowned …
Though feeling low from life's dreams unaddressed
I wondered if she came , an omen blessed.
My mouth froze, O this vision of surprise
A pageant of twinkling gold butterflies!
------------------
9/11/2017
Silent One’s Contest: Poems that paint a picture
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